It's happened so quietly, without my realization. Just last week, I was fourteen years old, praying every night that I wouldn't wake up in the morning. I was hurting myself daily to find some sense of relief and to get far away from my own head. Just yesterday, I was sixteen, attempting to take my life for the first time. And today I woke up at the age of 23. I hopped out of bed and ran to my balcony to greet the sun that I knew would grace us; every year, the sun shines on my birthday. I turned my face up to the sky and felt truly, completely, whole-heartedly alive. Fragile, but alive. Scared, but alive. Unsure, stressed, tired, confused...but alive.
How did I get here without even noticing?
The answer to that question: I'm not Beyoncé; I did not just wake up like this.
I started by shifting the focus from myself to my loved ones. I wanted to die, but my siblings need me. My parents. My friends. My co-workers. This fact was the only hope to hold onto, so I grabbed it and held it tight. I used my newfound hope to pull myself through every day, one at a time. Sometimes simply through the hour. When I wanted to cut myself, I wrote their names over and over until the desire faded. When the urge was so strong that my brain painted the picture of going to the bathroom to follow through with the act (usually indicating that my willpower was failing), I would collapse to the floor on the spot to curl up in a ball. I hugged my knees to my chest and squeezed. I stayed in that position until I trusted myself to not touch a sharp object; sometimes this took hours.
Eventually I had longer periods of time pass without hurting myself. I knew this was a step in the right direction, but I was still far from okay. I missed my mom, who was in recovery. I was distant from my dad, which hurt our relationship at the time. My grades sucked. I was eating about 800 calories a day. I could not sleep. And the only way to cope with everything (without cutting) was to become robotic. No emotions. My feelings were too intense to bare, too exhausting, too much. I became the funny friend so I would not be called out. I hid behind my humor.
But being a robot got old. I could feel all of the emotions swirling inside, colliding into one another, desperate for air, suffocating me, making my head feel foggy constantly. I was afraid for all of the years of trauma and pain to escape, because I was convinced that I would not survive it.
My closest friends suggested therapy. I had been avoiding seeing a professional for years, but now I had no other option. I promised my loved ones (not to their faces, but in my journal) that I would not try to kill myself again. And I could not go back on that promise. But I felt dangerously close to trying.
The first few sessions were uneventful. I sat rigidly in the chair with my ankles crossed, answering the mundane questions with cold calculation. They were almost business meetings. My therapist didn't push though; she asked about school, my hobbies, my friends, my favorite books.
But eventually she started digging, and I resisted for quite awhile. I grew frustrated and thought I was wasting both of our time.
Then one day she said, "You're suppressing so many negative emotions that I can see it as a physical attribute." Silence from me. "Cassie, I'm glad that you keep your family in mind when you don't feel safe, but the ultimate goal is to live for yourself. There is more to life than this. Don't you want to be happy?"
I stared at her in shock. Nobody had called out my unhappiness before. "I know what happiness feels like. I've felt that."
"Don't you want it back?"
My lower lip quivered. She had just taken a hammer to my concrete fortress, and she formed a crack. I looked away.
"I'm going to give it to you straight, Cassandra: when you hide from these emotions, you're hiding from the good AND bad feelings. The goodness is in there, waiting to be felt. Unfortunately, you have to tackle the bad first. The happiness is hiding behind all of the horror that you haven't come to terms with."
I jumped to my feet. It was another swing, and the initial crack had splintered into more. "I can't do it," I gasped. "It's a lot bigger than me. I won't make it."
"You already survived the trauma itself. If you were strong enough for that, you are strong enough for the aftermath."
"You don't understand. You don't know," I whispered. My voice was wobbly; I could almost hear my walls falling apart.
"I don't know because you won't talk about it."
"Because I can't."
"I promise you can."
"I can't!"
"You can!"
"I was RAPED!! I was raped last year, for fuck's sake!"
I don't remember falling, but I felt the floor under my knees and I bent over, clutching my chest, fairly sure I was having a heart attack (what I didn't know at the time was that it was a panic attack. I had them frequently without knowing what they were). I proceeded to throw up all over her crisp white carpet.
My fortress had crumbled into a pile of rubble and I was exposed to every memory I'd ever had. My sobs shook me from the inside out. I tried to tell her that we'd made a terrible mistake; I had said the horrible thing out loud. I made it real. I gave it a name. I had created it, a living breathing figure standing over us in that tiny room.
The horrible thing had escaped me, and with it came everything else. In between hiccuping gasps, I watched my inner demons spill out onto the carpet next to my vomit stain.
The complicated anger I had toward my mom for choosing drugs over me again. The fear I had of telling my dad how I felt. The heartbreak over every guy that I let in, only to have them stomp on me before leaving. My inability to stand behind my opinions. The looks my teachers gave me when they caught glimpses of my marked arms. My lack of eating. The words of my bully, telling me every day that I was fat and stupid and unlovable and useless. My inner talk, which had morphed into what my bully said. The whispers and giggles of the girls in my classes. The daydreams of slitting my wrists. The failure I felt as a sister. The lack of interest in any type of future. My inability to look in the mirror. The hate I had for myself that rotted me to the core at all hours of the day.
Oftentimes when people have a breakthrough, they talk about how their past self died. I wish I could tell you that this moment in my therapist's office was my big breakthrough, but it wasn't that easy.
I died that day. But I had to keep dying, every day.
Every day I woke up and forced myself to look in the mirror. Every day I wrote in my journal. Every day I had to forgive not only the people that had hurt me, but I had to forgive myself. Over and over and over.
I gave into cutting a few more times after that big day. I told my therapist that I had ruined all my efforts by fucking up. She said that was not true; I would simply start again the next day. When I had amazing days, she said the same thing: I still had to start fresh.
I started appreciating the small things, because that's all I had. I wrote down what I was grateful for: a solid night's sleep. Earning a C+ on a test. Study dates with my friends. Hugs from my little siblings. Sunny weather. Quiet reading time. Having a clean room with fresh laundry.
The small things piled up slowly. And years later, I'm here.
I hope this gives you a better understanding as to why I'm so obsessed with birthdays. Not just mine, but anybody's. They are a celebration of another full year of living.
After my super long-winded birthday reflection, here is my list of 23 things I have learned so far. (Full disclaimer: There are people that have been through so much worse than me, and there are people that have so much more wisdom to share. This is just me being candid and honest with you. And I really want to share more!)
1. Other people's opinion of you is none of your business (actually a quote from Lisa Nichols).
2. If you want something badly enough, you'll put in the work. You will make it a priority.
3. Being the thinnest, smallest version of yourself will not make you happy. I've been overweight and underweight, and the only time I've felt comfortable is now because my body is finally functioning properly.
4. There will always be people that want you to fail. Sometimes they're strangers, sometimes haters, sometimes friends. Remember this is not a reflection of you; this is a reflection of how they feel about themselves.
5. Giving yourself enough time in the morning to not feel rushed changes the tone for your entire day.
6. Laundry is never done. Never. Even if your hamper is empty, you still have sheets on your bed and you're still wearing clothes right now.
7. A clean space= a clear head.
8. The way you treat yourself sets the example of how the rest of the world treats you.
9. You cannot pour from an empty cup. You have to protect your energy and fill your own cup first in order to help others.
10. Balance is bullshit. Some days your priority is work, some days it's school, some days it's rest, some days it's social time. You can't give your full effort into everything at once without burning out.
11. You need to schedule in alone time with yourself as if you're making plans with your best friend. DO NOT cancel on yourself.
12. Your panic attack can only last, at full capacity, for twenty minutes. It will pass.
13. It is possible for people to change for the better. It is possible to forgive them.
14. On the flip side of #13, you are allowed to cut out people that are bad for you.
15. Wash your face every night before bed. Every night. Trust me.
16. Stop trying to get approval from others. God, this is a huge one. It's so much easier said than done, I know. But remember at the end of your life, you want to look back and know that every decision you made was for YOU.
17. Breakups are incredibly painful. Don't feel bad for being heartbroken. The healing will come, but let yourself be sad first.
18. Don't touch hard drugs. If you haven't yet, do not do it. It ruins lives. It takes our loved ones. Please.
19. Show up for your friends when they need you, because you know they'd do the same.
20. Don't pick the guy/girl over your friends. If he/she is the one, he/she can coexist with your people.
21. In terms of goals and dreams, you need to let fear fuel you. If it's scary, that means there is potential for success by taking the risk. What's the worst that can happen? You fail? Tweak the approach next time.
22. Today might be the worst day of your life. But tomorrow will come. The earth will keep spinning, and the sun will rise again in the morning. You can start over.
23. Last but not least, my motto: one day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time. You're built to survive this. I promise.
I still have to work on me and my thoughts constantly because growth is not a destination; it's a lifelong journey.
Ever since that day with my therapist, I went searching for the happy for a long time. This morning, on my 23rd birthday, I stumbled across it. It was hiding inside me, patiently waiting. Upon being discovered, the happy smiled and said,
"What took you so long? I missed you!"
-c.j.d.